than he had imagined at the time. He had at one sitting won upwards of three thousand pounds, and he never afterwards sat down to the table without being reminded of his good luck; but it so happened, that when he went into an examination of his affairs, he found that his many smaller losses had more, much more, than counterbalanced his once great winnings. Now was the time for reflection, and so his friends thought, and they left him to reflection. The result was, that he committed the motherless and portionless Penelope to the care of his brother-in-law, Dr Greendale, and betook himself to commercial diligence in a foreign country, with the hope of at least providing for himself, if not of retrieving his losses. Fourteen years had Penelope spent under the roof of the worthy and benevolent rector of Smatterton. To her uncle she had ever looked up as to a father. Of her own father she knew but little; and in all the thoughts she entertained concerning him, there was mingled a feeling of pity. It was highly creditable to Dr Greendale, that his manner of speaking of Mr Primrose should have produced this impression on his daughter’s mind. There certainly was in the conduct of Penelope’s father enough of the blameable to justify the doctor in declaiming against him as a profligate and thoughtless man, who had brought ruin upon himself and family. But censoriousness was not by any means the doctor’s forte. He was rather a moral physician than a moral quack, and he had found in his own parish that the gentleness of fatherly admonition was more effectual than the indignant eloquence of angry rebuke. Penelope naturally possessed high and buoyant spirits; and had her situation been any other than that of dependence, it is probable that this vivacity might have degenerated into pertness. It was however softened, though not subdued by the thought of her father in voluntary exile, and the language in which Dr Greendale was accustomed to speak of his “poor brother Primrose.” Her spirit also was humbled, though not broken, by the stepmother-like behaviour of Mrs Greendale. Penelope could never do or say anything to please her aunt. When she was cheerful, she was reproved for her pertness; when serious, she was rebuked for being sulky. At her books, she was proud of her learning; at her pianoforte, she was puffed up with useless accomplishments. Out of the kitchen she was too proud for domestic occupation, in it her assistance was not wanted. In her dishabille she was slovenly, when dressed she was a fine lady. By long experience she grew accustomed to this studied annoyance, and it ceased to have a very powerful effect upon her mind; and it might perhaps be the means of doing her good, though its intention was anything but kindness.